Why Folsom Sucks

Folsom Hotel shut down temporarily

2011-10-01T06:14:00.001-07:00

Editor's note: The Folsom Hotel has been shut down for over two weeks for serving too much alcohol to a patron and cited by ABC. My initial reaction was fuckin' A! It's just a god damn bummer this place didn't catch on fire trapping literally hundreds of douchebags inside and prematurely taking their lives, leaving their parents to mourn for the rest of their lives. We can't win 'em all.

The good news is the City of Folsom won't be getting a dime from them. Another reason why it would be nice for this place to just burn to the fucking ground. I'll take two weeks over nothing. ABC please don't forget Scarlett's, that crappy sports bar and The Hacienda, they over serve patrons all the time, I've seen it. Then again...the police would have even less to do than babysit community college students.

Manderes, the only thing in Folsom that doesn't suck multiple cocks

2011-10-01T06:12:00.000-07:00

I came across this article today because I was trying to find some current articles by Tom Rupp. He was nominated by me as the worst writer in Sacramento. Literally a guy so enamored with blowing Jesus and his father that he has grown stupid on celestial cum. This is also the man who raped my mother impregnating her with Siamese twins, one was a blue baby. Rupp is a born again so the courts dismissed the case and forced my mother to give birth to the twins, claiming that rape was a gift from God.

Back to Manderes, the only thing that doesn't suck multiple cocks in Folsom. The article like every article in the Telegraph is just for scrapbooks and promoting small businesses, because there is nothing to actually write about in Folsom unless its the FPD publicly fist-fucking each others' glory holes and the poor.

Back to the article about Manderes, It is a fantastic place to drink esoteric beers. Brent mentions a favorite beer of mine the Allagash Curieaux, a drink fit for Dionysus. This is just my shameless promotion of a single speck of light in a dark town. And Cheryl if you read this holla back.

Bad Behavior by Folsom PD.

2011-05-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

So the Folsom PD are a bunch of lying cunt sacks of shit and piss. I'm so fucking shocked and awed right now its unreasonable. But I'm also high off of some weird drug I found in the park. I came across this blog or websites written by a dog I guess the son of Sam lives in Folsom. I'm not positive, but I'm glad he's on my side. I came across this site while searching for traffic ticket quotas in Folsom. I can't seem to find the piece by Kerry Miller who ostensibly went uncontested for his traffic ticket quota policy, or faggy lil' article. But he's a fucking lier and the police eat dicks all day. Here is the link by a dog, or most likely some weird old man who has an unusual obsession with his dog.

Bad Polie Behavior

Stu Streeter Sucks

2011-04-21T11:31:00.000-07:00

Stu Streeter has recently launched a Church Sucks campaign in Folsom, he's right. It does suck. And if you're Catholic its any wonder humans subject themselves to such antiquated ceremonies on a regular basis.

Streeter likes to believe this double entendre will persuade god fearing bottom feeders to run through the doors of his church. What's it like being so clever Stu? Well Stu, by the way your name is about as gay as West Hollywood, you suck. That's no double entendre. One thing Streeter forgot to include is that religion sucks in his Church Sucks campaign.

Its painfully obvious that Stu ripped of the title of my blog and trying to ride on the coattails of my success. I regularly check Google analytics and I get 8 million unique views a month.

I suspect Streeter is just another overcompensating cock sucking faggot who managed his money wrong and is trying his hand at ripping off idiots.

Please join me in my new Stu Sucks campaign and give me lots of money, you don't have to attend my church if you don't want to.

Church Sucks in Folsom and everywhere

Fan Email

2011-04-06T10:29:00.001-07:00

Dear Asshole,

I don’t know why you hate Tom Rupp so much, he does so much to bring our community closer together and teaches peace and love through knowledge of the bible. Mr. Rupp deserves respect from everyone including you.

I think I speak for our community when I say, we would appreciate if found someone else to hate so much, like Muslims, and terrorists.

Folsom is a great place to raise a family and its safe and its people like you with your ideas that is ruining it.

God is just so powerful and so anointed and Mr. Rupp does everything thing he can to let us know that. He is a teacher and you are not, so he’s smarter than you, obviously.

You think you are so smart and better than everyone else, but you’re writing sucks. Go back to Orangevale or the Castro District or wherever you are from.

Let's get some cocaine and fuck hella hard in the asshole

2011-02-24T12:23:00.000-08:00

The Rotary Club of Folsom met recently to discuss the revival of Sutter Street and innovative ways to attract business to Folsom.

After the meeting was over I had a long discussion with some uniformed officers and Tom Rupp about the benefits and the socioeconomic impact of opening a gay bar in Folsom.

We decided it would be safer to take the discussion elsewhere. At first I offered my spa on the lanai behind the privacy of green vines weaving the lattice work. But one of the Folsom Policemen offered something more neutral, Folsom Lake Bowl.

It was important that if police officers and civies were going to be seen in public together that we be seen in the most macho bar in Folsom. The Policemen didn’t drink anything while in uniform. That would be bad business. We sat in the back of the bar, out of earshot, in the corner booth. No one had to know we were discussing the plight of the gay male in a conservative town such as Folsom. Appearing titanic and unmovable is what mattered.

The topic of safety among gay men in Folsom dominated the discussion. One police officer who shall remain unnamed, noted that arresting men cruising for tool in the back alleys of Folsom was an unnecessary drain on the local economy. One officer even drew parallels between the Egyptian police force and the Folsom Police Department with regard to how they treat gays. Both have been known to round up gays who arranged to meet at a secret location on the outskirts of Cairo/ Folsom then beating the shit out of them then throwing them in jail indefinitely and without charges. Officer, “We have to treat gays like social pariahs and insidious lepers here in Folsom or we’ll lose our jobs.” It is rumored that Kerry Miller the City Manager has personally authorized a gay purge at any cost.

One of Rupp’s concerns was that many of his followers are viciously anti-gay. He felt forced to speak regularly about how gays ruin everything. He has seen his congregation and students dwindle in number because he wasn’t openly calling for gays to be lynched publicly. Parents in his Bible college have expressed they want their kids to see dead and bleeding gays hanging from the bridge over E. Bidwell Street. Rupp almost in tears, “I may not know how many letters are in the alphabet, but I know that gays are people and shouldn’t be killed for liking each other.”

Rupp, “If these people are going to enroll in my class, they want their own emotions reinforced and validated by some sort of moral authority. And they all see me as that person.” When planning his classes Rupp feels compelled to integrate strict anti-gay curriculum.

One police Officer said, “I just can’t be around cocaine any more. I used to love getting jammed in the ass then letting the raw sewage and warm ejaculate drip from the back of my nut-sack onto the bathroom floor, high as fuck on coke. I just can’t do that here.”

There are many gay men working for the Folsom Police Department, how are the people in Folsom going to react knowing that gays are protecting them? Its been a sensitive issue for the armed service. Officer, "We have to interact with these people, we go to the same restraints and shop at the same stores. The people of Folsom would lose respect for the police force.” Some residents in Folsom are reluctant to have gay men on the police force. One resident thought out loud that "The don’t ask don’t tell policy is wrong. And if a police officer is gay he should be paid less than a straight officer. I'm Union and we don't represent gays."

A large number of Mormons have been vocal about their disgust with gays in Folsom.
Outspoken Mormon groups claim that no one is really gay, but gay people choose to be gay. One unnamed Mormon, “God didn’t make gays, they just don’t exist.” In a strange twist of moral hypocrisy some Mormons have been accused of ironically raping gays, with their own penises. But the Mormon attackers claim they only hunt those gays who are formerly known as Mormons.

Here’s where things get murky, Folsom Police Officers that claim Mormonism as their confession haven’t once arrested a (gay) Mormon found assaulting and harassing gays. They refuse to charge the Mormon , because gay doesn’t exist. They are typically charged with loitering and given a minuscule fine.

I have traded many emails with officers, priests, and senior citizens about where the men can meet like minded men. I tell them it's just not possible here. Being gay and meeting gay men is very dangerous in Folsom. There aren’t too many options for gays in Folsom. For some, its best to live the lie behind RVCA shirts and clodhopper skate shoes. Or you can move out and be openly gay. Miller's gay purge has deep pockets and even deeper throats.

Sorry that I love you and I missed you for so long

2011-02-07T11:31:00.000-08:00

Dear WFS fans,

I apologize for not updating the WFS blog in several months. There are many reasons for my absence.

I violated my parole by getting really fucking high.

I don’t remember getting arrested but according to the police report, I was under the influence of what appeared to be LSD, or a dangerous combination of drugs. I can’t even begin to tell what I took.

The Folsom Police Department handed me over to some pariah tea party liberationists. I think they were Mormons. The sons of some Folsom originals. I got the hunch that these rogue justice types were engaged in an ethnic cleansing program in Folsom called “Operation Final Solution”. I’ve always read about the rumors on the Google, but that was just another weird Mormon conspiracy until now.

They transported me to a freezing and narrow mineshaft on some Indian reservation in the desserts of Arizona. It was impossible to climb out. The only light I saw was at noon for several minutes each day. My captors would toss down a sack of old fruit and white bread at dusk. After they all took turns spitting heaping mouthfulls of brown chaw spit on me.

One of these sick and demented captors has been giving me only Tom Rupp articles to read in my pit. Aside from the constant threat of rape, torture, gross unadulterated physical violence, and perpetual paranoia which have led to ulcers and constipation, this is my window to the outside world. Rupp’s articles tend to be more like a butthole camera looking for polups.

They took mercy on me and let me go after I convinced them that I would hate blacks and Mexicans and gays, just like them. I've had to change my name and my identity and grow dirty facial hair. But I'm back.

No improvement from this drug user

2010-10-14T11:16:00.000-07:00

Editor’s note: This recently uncovered audio is a testament to my commitment to the miserable craft of writing. In an effort to become a better writer, a better person, even a better drug user I took the advice of a disgruntled reader. Some dipshit named Geoff suggested I use more drugs to improve my grammar. So I did just that. The town of actual town, mountain donkeys hail is called Oatman.

Against my better judgment, here is a five minute conversation between Pat Seanrick Walsh, myself and some chick.

Me “Announcement, the line of blow, the size of yard sticks. I’m writing like Paulo Cuelho at this moment. Nothing like Hemingway. I’m gonna get there though. I might just be hearing ‘get weird’.

PSW “I’m going to leave her and go get a drink.”

Me “Oh my god, can I watch? Oh my goooood.”

PSW “nononono. I mean like, I’m down to you know, you know. I’m gonna bail”

Me “Someone let the Arabs out!”

PSW “And the thing about it was that it, Bullhead city sucks dick. It’s terrible. You think on a map it sucks, but when you get there and you find out 29 meters over. Hella wild donkeys.

Me “What does it take for women to be into you? They don’t even knooow. Dude I have like a nice sweater oooon. I got a Northface, I got uppity hipster like hiking type jeans. An they’re just like, nnnough! What the fuck duuuude…

PSW “I talk to ‘em.”

Me “Yeah,ok, fine. A thousand okays, there’s something else. You know what, fuck those bitches. Pat, continue the joke. We were in Arizona in some shitty fucking… Laughlin!? We were in Luahglin. Yeah what a, what a great place to beee.”

PSW “I was the one who came up with the idea to go that town where the donkeys came from the mountains. Was it like Kinston?

Me “Kingman, it was Kingman.”

Me “Hee didn’t fucking figure that one out, my mom goes you should go to Kingman.

PSW “No his mom left a notebook about, hey, here’s the hotspots to hit, when you’re cruising Bullhead City.

Me “Kingman, by the way had wild goats.

PSW “Donkeys came down from the mountain.

Me “Splooosh. I love you.”

PSW “So we go there

Me “and your lifestyle.”

PSW “The only place open sold like Katana swords and nunchucks. And we’re like are those donkeys coming from the mountains.”

Me “Coffee mugs.”

PSW “So we came here, I shit you not. There are these little pictures. They come down the mountain and they have these manes.

PSW “A mountain, a literally.

Me “A Moaauuntaaain.”

Someone “That is impossible, I guess.”

PSW “I guuuess, I guuuessss.”

Me “I guess.”

PSW “I guess.”

Me “ So I had my switchblade at this point, petting goats.

PSW “And the other thing is, its its, one of them has a sticker on it’s head, you can’t give it a carrot cause it’l die.

Me “Nouh Joooke.

PSW “Which is the weirdest story you’ll ever hear in your life. …Stickers on their head. Baby donkeys, 12 donkeys. It’s a different breed of, the special breed is caaaalled…What.”

Garbled…

PSW “Nooo, nooo”

PSW “I’m kinda mad that I’m the only person…Yelling ketamine.

Me “Did youu even haaave real drugs and you didn’t even share’m.”

PSW ‘Joooey, they have these machine you turn upside down. Right nostril right nostril and you get a bunch of cocaine. I got weird drugs over at my house that she gave me.

Me You have weird drugs? Let’s party.”

PSW “I’m still holding.”

Me “Do you have weird pills?”

PSW “Yes they’re”

Me “cause, b’cause I need pills because I’m supposed to become a better writer when I do.”

PSW” No, can you like stay upright and do a pill?”

Me “Yeaaah, of course I can.”

PSW “The hospital gave me Ambien.”

Me “Noo I’m cool, I need to go around the corner and graaaab a pija pizza. I need to grab a piece of pizza.”

PSW “You have fives,

Somone” I gave you fives.”

PSW ”I remember the tense.”

Me “I need a piece of pizza! I need a piece of pizza.

PSW “I know we’re gonna go!

Me “I need a pizza from around the corner!”

Comment on comments

2010-09-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

I must apologize for failing to write anything for a couple of weeks, I was in rehab. At the recommendation of a discouraged reader, I took drugs and various combinations thereof so that I might improve on my grammar. My life spun out of control, I was stealing from my parents wallets and having arguments with worms. All this lasted two weeks but I’m fine now. But I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to binge on several drugs at once for the sake of writing and self improvement.

There is one exception, I allow myself to take Flexeril in the evenings to mitigate the violent spasms and muffle the screaming shrills of the evil witch in my head, who torments me on a nightly basis. Flexeril I’m afraid does nothing for my writing since I just fall asleep.

On the brighter side of things, Why Folsom Sucks has reached new heights in the virtual world. To compliment the WFS blog is a Facebook page and a Twitter feed. Unimaginable levels of accomplishment are pushing me both physically and mentally, like taking copious drugs and then going through rehab to please an upset reader. Pleasing an ever increasing number of readers doesn’t get any easier. So, I’m open to more suggestions as well.

When I started this project as a counter to everything Folsom stands for and has become, I never imagined that it would reach the kind of popularity it has. According to the WFS Facebook page, there are about 30 fans, and Twitter boasts of about 12 followers. Thank you, all of you (tear of joy drips down my cheek).

With this new found fame, I am receiving many hate emails, monogamous relationship offers from women of the Baltic, death threats, and fans have taken to mailing me some of my favorite drugs (pills of all kinds). Ladies, by the way, I am a one man pharm party, so let’s get into fruit bowls. One thing I am not getting is money, so please be so kind as to donate a few Euros into my paypal account as soon as possible.

Enough of my bragging about fame and women, let’s get on with my current dismay.
One of the many comments I received was from Geoff Niswander, some scroungey looking dipshit that wears the oh-so original Ray-Ban aviators. This chap is steamed over my double plus ungood grammar, and erroneously thinks I was raised in Folsom. This is the guy who suggested I take drugs to improve my grammar. Done and done. Sounds like good advice none the less and an admirable challenge to boot.

My assumption is, judging from his arrogance and reactionary tone, he’s probably the kind of guy who has at least a couple of failed GHB rape attempts under his belt, and used to hit his mother as a child. He also looks like Justin Bieber trying to grow facial hair. So you guessed it, he basically looks like a high school kid who wants to look like a girl who wants to look like a guy. He also looks like a chronic masturbator. But I took his advice anyway.

Did the drugs ever help?

I decided it would be best if I eased into this thing by using just the basic drugs, ones I’m familiar with. Then move onto the weirder and harder shit later on.

The night started off as normal as ever, I was at my friend Sean’s apartment and we drank a six pack of High Life and smoked a fat number, then we hit the streets looking for some no-no. Like usual, women shriveled in fear at our lurid behavior. I texted Sean’s old girlfriend to get the phone number of her friend, a friend I was interested in boning.

She wrote “If I give you her number, don’t be creepy. Don’t hang out with Sean either.”

That's not happening tonight.

We found an alley with little foot traffic so we could mainline a vile of Ketamine. I wasn’t familiar with Ketamine at all, but it sounded like a good idea at the time.I tied off and the needle went into the vein with no trouble. We sat down and chatted, I searched through my pockets for a pen and a notepad. I forgot both of them at home.

We woke up an hour later and started for the bar. And just to even out the Ketamine we did a few key blasts. I was flying high, and I thought I could write like Hemingway at this point. When we reached the bar I shot for the bathroom and chewed through a few ecstasy pills. The next hour had such clarity, I figured I’d remember everything anyway, and didn’t really need a pen to improve my writing skills.

I think I was on about five drugs simultaneously at this point. I don’t know what I said to the bartender he just threw a broken pencil at me and screamed “Write with this, dick!” My mind finally quit, I don’t remember anything after chasing five norcos with a shot of black label at the bar.

Needless to say I woke up at 4am in an unfamiliar apartment, face down on a love seat, which should have been a physical impossibility given the size of this couch. I was out of drugs, and the one thing I wanted were a few barbiturates for a smooth landing. I had to call in sick to work the next day, I told them I didn’t know where I was and that I was barfing in a bathtub. I was picking barf chunks out of my pubes but decided to leave this detail out as a matter of dignity.

The result should have been predictable. I consumed enough hard drugs in one night to tranquillize a pack of Bison and I never got around to actually writing anything. I took the advice of a disgruntled reader and I can’t help but feel like I am a better person for it, he most certainly wouldn’t take my advice, though I would suggest he just go fuck himself. To recapitulate, this is why Folsom sucks, because Folsom is full of people like Geoff who wouldn’t pound various drugs for the sake of self improvement, art or otherwise.

Why Folsom Sucks now in low-def

2010-08-23T12:18:00.000-07:00

Why Folsom Sucks is now on twitter. Please follow my rants and racial infused tirades against everyone and everything associated with this cunt farter of a town.

WFS on Twitter

Tom Rupp helps Folsom suck

2010-08-18T14:04:00.000-07:00

I got home from work around midnight and decided to catch up on some local news. I had spent the last few days in San Francisco enjoying the Outside Lands festival and people who genuinely enjoy music and the company of others. Of course none of my friends went with me because I don’t have any.

I was desperately trying to escape my dreadful life in Folsom and largely Sacramento, I succeeded, I came back in a good mood. My good mood vanished in less than thirty minutes of being at work. One weird thing I noticed when I came back was that no one here makes much eye contact and generally looks miserable. Like they’ve been brow beaten by their masters and forced to suck them off for a handful of crackers, like Treefrog Johnson. I work with the public if you haven’t already assumed from my blanket hatred of society.

I just so happened to open up the Folsom Telegraph for some demented reason. I can’t say I’ve ever read anything in there that was of any use or insightful because it’s mostly high school sports and rotary meetings, so it’s not really news at all. The Telecrap might be slightly more interesting if it operated like any other newspaper in Sacramento. Started by rich self serving muckraking neo-capitalist fascists, who'd no sooner rape you and your daughter in front of your wife then shoot your wife in the face so that's the last thing she ever sees. But its not, and it sucks.

I had a mental breakdown a few months ago and quit reading the news everyday, I broke up with my girlfriend and stopped using so many drugs. Part of the problem was the news, that makes people sick. I quit subjecting myself to this daily masochism because I hate everything that everyone writes in northern California. I am bitter and have acute and vicious closet anger.

Folsom is like God’s own vagina and he refuses to douche, it just gets stinky and pasty and it stopped cleansing itself a long time ago. Just a giant gaping fuck hole someone with a sinus infection hawked a loogie in. Or God’s butt hole…

The focus of my hatred for this installment of WFS, Tom Rupp the local talentless dipshit who continually writes about religion and other insignificant joyrides, and he really rounded out my day. My day was like the Hindenburg going up in flames and Rupp was spark that lit this bitch on fire. My day started off great and by the end of the day after reading this article I couldn’t sleep and thought about suicide.

Here I am fuming and fightin’ mad about this article Rupp wrote titled “A word to the wise: getting away from it all isn‘t so easy.” How is this a word to the wise? Is getting away that difficult? After reading the article it was no word to the wise at all. It was a shitty bland 200 word story about baking marshmallows and doing bible charades for two days. Maybe, if Rupp described how he imitated Cain killing his brother or reenacting Mel Gibson’s antisemetic tirades that’d make for a better article. I venture that Rupp is just some sick bastard with an insatiable addiction to college style dorm room porn and masturbation.

In the article Rupp admittedly never went camping until just recently, and prefers air conditioning and hotel rooms. Which is strange because he looks like some bloaty red faced senior citizen. I wouldn't admit at this age I never went camping.
I presume this is the typical mentality of your average Folsomite, just safe and fucking boring as all get out. Dining out at Jack’s Urban Eats on a Friday afternoon is anyone’s highlight in this circle of hell.

Halfway through this article I had to put my daytime occlusal guard in so I don’t grind my molars to the gums and pound two valium to continue breathing in a somewhat normal fashion. How does this asshole get published, albeit in a shitty scrapbook newspaper? He sucks, he's not descriptive, probably because his camping trip was a total fucking bore and there was ultimately nothing to write about. Protip, want to write, live a life and Rupp’s article gets worse with every sentence.

So here’s a sentence (the 2nd)I have a problem with, “Getting away from it all is becoming more and more of an impossibility. Still, if you try, you can make a pretty good go of it.” I wouldn’t classify this guy as a linguist, he can read and write but what does this second sentence mean, ‘trying’ and ‘making a go of it’ mean the same thing. And if you’re this old and you finally went camping this late in life, you’re failing at something. Another protip, who how where when what why? Why is getting away so difficult? Not that anyone should care, but it is the title of the article, maybe you can elaborate just a bit.

Another thing about this dipshit I don’t get, is that spending two days camping reminded him of Moses leading the Israelites in the Sinai Peninsula for a 40 year camping trip. Rupp, what the fuck are you talking about? I don’t think Moses was into camping, and Rupp your math is bad. You forgot to add about 14,598 more days to your camping trip if it was going to be anything like this epic. I’ve been to the Sinai Peninsula and it’s nothing but a wind destroyed shithole desert, no amenities and processed foods. It’s probably closer to God’s butt hole than Folsom is. Although I’m not sure what’s considered better or worse, a crappy desert or processed foods. Did Moses have a hard time getting away from it all, then escape to leatherby’s for an ice cream? What’s worse is that Rupp openly values watching television and being a lazy asshole that eats too much processed food. 'Getting away' for Rupp is probably more of a physical impossibility because Rupp is some flaccid and atrophied gross old man eating ham sandwiches on white bread. I hope nobody in Folsom is taking lifestyle advice from you Rupp.

If I was a bettin’ man, I’m sure there was a community college student that went with Rupp on this camping trip that knows how to play an acoustic guitar, leading group worship with songs of praise like “Our God is an Awesome God”. And what are the odds that Rupp and his money grubbing cronies invited this kid to go camping because he read Harry Potter and the Da Vinci Code then lied to his elders about it? A real troubled youth lured into the joys of reading; reading shit but reading none the less. This wasn’t in the article but I’m sure having the kind of fun these people have, it really wouldn’t surprise me.

This is bar far one of the stupidest fucking articles I have ever read, ever. Rupp should be fired from the Telegraph or prevented from being published ever again and forced to clean ashtrays on Sutter St. Now that I think about it, this is what happens when you don’t pay professionals to do a job, you get a maladroit asshole spewing bullshit at 75 words per minute. People like Rupp have taken actual talent out of journalism and made it an uninspiring and degrading profession, on top of effectively lowering the intellectual capacity of Folsom. I may even start a face book page calling for Rupp’s position. If Rupp gets arrested for decapitating goats and using their blood to fill the church chalice, don’t be surprised. So this is Why Folsom Sucks, Rupp is a bad writer, writing for a bad publication and telling a bad story to bad people who have bad attitudes who live in a bad town.

Eat shit Rupp.

You can read his article at Folsom Telecrap

Creepy fan voicemail

2010-08-09T21:56:00.001-07:00

Editor's Note: Some guy who lives in Santa Cruz got my phone number from a friend from a friend from a friend kind of thing and insisted I come down to hang out. Here is a series of two voicemails I received at 3am.

Voicemail I:

Don’t you fucking start with me you fucking artist, I fucking hate your life.

I know I am one and I fucking hate myself that way and I know I hate myself and I know like you are one, and so you hate yourself that way, in identifying, and stuff.

And we haven’t offed ourselves yet. You oughta come down to Santa Cruz and come into like this beach town house and you should be playing beer pool, beer pong, I don’t even know what this game is. But you should be here because it would be awesome. Because it would just be awesome.

Just be awesome, with your life. Just live in joy. (Inaudible, something French)

Live. In. Joy….
…
Kay love. Why aren’t you answering at 3 am C’mon what are you asleep or something? Pussy.

Voicemail II:

Fuck you fucker. Look for inspiration.

Keep looking in Folsom because that’s where inspiration strikes.

…in a boring ass suburban town.

Can you just stretch your web out for a moment you stupid son of a bitch (fart sound)?

Why Folsom Sucks #176

2010-08-03T17:01:00.000-07:00

Why Folsom Sucks #176

True story, one night after work I went to get some drinks with some colleagues, a real special night, some of the bosses were coming out. I was hungover as a motherfucker, and after an eight hour shift a few drinks were just what I needed to get me to sleep, even out the black shakes and bring me slightly closer to functional.

We all met at the local haunt Folsom Lake Bowl, a favorite among the colleagues for some reason, I think its the cheap drinks. That’s probably the same reason all the bottom feeding douche bags and tramps that will never have sex with anyone cleaner than themselves hang out there. You know the type, grungy wanna-be everything, fucked up peircings, and a wardrobe that looks like they raided Loaves and Fishes during Christmas. The safe assumption is these idiots mourned the loss of Indian Larry, and think West Coast Choppers is still totally radical.

As I pulled into the parking lot of this fine establishment I saw a squad car waiting patiently across the street for drunken / sober assholes to leave the bar. I’ll spare you the anticipation, at the end of the night that asshole was me. I had some good luck for a few months, not being tailed or even pulled over.

We all got off work about 11 pm and given our personal lives no one really drinks more than a singular beer, Oh, that and Folsom is borderline tyrannical about DUIs. You don’t even have to be driving to get one (more on this in another WFS diatribe).

In any other city most people wouldn’t have anything to worry about, but this Folsom, they do things differently here and they couldn’t give a fuck. A true pariah of conservatism, Ronald Reagan’s wet dream. An unforgiving city with respect to how the police profile, and treat their citizens. The Folsom Police force is somewhere between a Blackwater contractor and low functioning security guard at the local Walgreens.

We didn’t stay too long, never do. We talked shit and left.

I pulled out of the parking lot hung a left and the squad car pulls out right behind me. I wasn’t worried at first, I had all my shit together, a true law abiding citizen, something these rigid, sexually repressed, and pseudo-virtuous fear mongers refuse to appreciate. Fostering a community, and being respectful or even moderately civil is beyond Folsom contractors. The hatred, contempt and harassment I have personally been subject to is unreasonable.

I was negotiating the Folsom gauntlet ( the corridor of ruin) with professionalism, E. Bidwell, then Riley, then Old Folsom, I made it past Rainbow Bridge, then the lights flash. FUCK! He must have seen me spit out my window, or found out I skipped jury duty. All one really has to do is make to the Madison/Greenback split and you’re home free. The Chevron on Folsom-Auburn is a favorite place for Folsom contractors to baton fuck, rape and ruin the average citizen, and now it’s my turn, I guess it was just a matter of time…

My only hope is having enough piss and vinegar, aggressive submissiveness, and intelligence to beat these unapologetic assholes at their own game. Police prey on fear, it’s always a five minute epic of psychological warfare, all one really has to do is be slightly smarter than them.

One tip I learned from William Burroughs about 15 years ago, is to never ‘sir’ a cop. I haven’t once ‘sir‘d‘ a cop, since I read that. Not that they don’t deserve it, but when no criminals are found, regular ass people become the criminals. This is when the default respect for police stops. But I still don’t ‘sir’ ‘em.

“License and registration please. How much have you had to drink tonight.”

“I had a beer with some colleagues after work.”

“You know why I pulled you over?”

“no”

I’m still looking for my registration and pulling papers out of my console like a magician juggling tissue paper. That’s when I notice the second cop on the driver’s side of my car, with his hand on his gun. Can’t be too safe with an unpredictable and bipolar violent offender like myself.

“You don’t have any mud flaps on your vehicle. By law… blah blah blah.”

I didn’t really listen after this point because I don’t care and I’m not ever going to put mud flaps on.

“I didn’t know I had to have mud...”- “Yeah you did.”

I handed him my license and he asks “Don’t you drive a little gray car?”

“Yeah I used to drive an old so and so, it’s a piece of shit.”

I see his name stitched in yellow in his uniform, I say his last name then his full name I looked at his face I blurt out his badge number and start laughing. I look down and say “completely unbelievable”. I refuse to provide his real name and badge number because I‘ll probably be tracked and killed like government protesters in Tehran.

“How do you know my badge number?”

“Well, you kept pulling me over last year and it pissed me off.”

“What did I pull you over for?”

“No tail light the first time, then speeding on E. Bidwell the second time. He wasted no time in bragging about how the police are so effective here.

“yeah we’ll gitchya”

I’m thinking whatever man, whatever makes you think you’re important. After this bullshit dog and pony show I did the pen test, I guess I passed, he let me go. It would have been entertaining to get hauled in for a DUI with a blood Alcohol level of .03.

This same cop had pulled me over twice in less than three weeks last year and was beyond condescending the second time around to me. This is when I had sent several emails to literally everyone that worked for the City of Folsom about harassment, comprehensive profiling, blanket abuse, and mass embarrassment of those who are unable to drive nice cars in Folsom. I went so far as to mention that speeding was a physical impossibility on E. Bidwell because call response times for the FPD are increasing due to traffic congestion. Writing the city and every single one of its employees didn’t amount to shit.

A day later I wrote the Editor of the Folsom Telegraph some scattershot diatribe about the dangers of not having mud flaps on larger vehicles. I suggested that it was in the City of Folsom’s best interest to issue a press release on the dangers of not having mud flaps and establishing a time line for all large vehicles to convert. I went on and on about how the City of Folsom needs to create a Civilian Review Board to mitigate resentment and open up a dialogue between the public and public safety, if the police are going to continue to act like this. I got no response. If this is the type of behavior we are saddled with the city should at least pretend to field questions and complaints like a fucking municipal agency should.

This is Why Folsom Sucks, you're gonna get raped sooner or later.

Why Folsom Sucks: An update on the people.

2010-07-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

Why Folsom Sucks: An update on the people.

I recently had lunch with an old colleague and old journalist sage of mine, his name is not important. He is a far more level headed and sober journalist I’ve come across in my five degrading years of chasing this stupid profession. He helped me get some gigs and in return I helped him get one of the worst jobs in the industry, a real shady business run by people who should be employed by Dick Cheney. Both he and I were working at the same entity which will remain unnamed, a business providing services to newspapers that don’t ask questions apparently. The owner is a creep, a loner of epic proportions and has a scorching case of Asbergers syndrome. I can only speculate that he fell victim to Munchausen’s by proxy as a child. The only remedy for people like him is force feed them lithium, show them slides of Rorschach prints, and train ‘em to care for bunnies.

On the rare occasion we do meet for lunch we typically head to Manderes the only respectable establishment in Folsom. This one place still doesn’t make Folsom moderately tolerable, so don’t jump to any conclusions or look for ‘holes’ in my rants.

We met early in the afternoon talking about everything from literature, to the news industry, to academic deconstructions of hipsters as per Bill Wasik, and the overall the ever perplexing personalities and surrealist nature of Folsom, which was nice for a change. I don’t run into many people who read, let alone read anything I’d enjoy. I have to hear people brag that they read Eat, Love, and Pray, or whatever that tripe is, in their book club. This is why I'm not in them. Apparently everyone in this town reads the bullshit Oprah is shoving into her vag.

“It’s a strange place” he went on to say, as if no one else saw it except for him. He himself is very much a part of this unearthly place, living in and working here. The subject of the Folsom Rodeo had come up, and to my knowledge, for the first time ever the Rodeo featured a laser show on top of a firework show. Naturally the conversation evolved into talking about the type of people that patronize the Folsom Rodeo, bottom feeders, dudes that wear those straw cowboy hats with the extreme brim curl usually meant for slutty chicks boating and pounding Coors Light cans on Lake Havasu.

During one of the fantastic little rodeo nights he and one of his friends set out to shoot some pool at the Sutter Club. While shooting pool he noticed this phenomenon, the people. The salivating Freaks, are they from here or not (I read on some shitty blog about one in five bar patrons are from Folsom)? Either way he was befuddled by the dimwits that come out of the woodwork with their miscalculated finery. He mentioned something like, they’re not cowboys, but preppy adults wearing cowboy hats trying to co-opt or include themselves into this realm. The realm which doesn't exist.

My colleague wrote a story about the strange humans that reinvent themselves for a special holiday of shit kickin’ and beer swillin’ in Folsom, he decided not to post this phenomenon on the Bee Blog. Not so much for fear of reprisal or that most everyone would probably take offense to what he wrote, but rather he is just putting this one in his back pocket. He raised his hands and said it might cause a stir, sarcastically being trembled at the thought of people disagreeing with him.

Luckily I only got stuck in traffic during this charade, I tried like hell to avoid these vampires whose only source of nourishment for life is the acute blandness for annual events. It’s difficult not to see these people as a freakish and unnecessary amalgamation of everything that sucks, a style and mental critical mass about to implode on itself, genetic mediocrity fast forwarding to the parallel universe of vapidity.

We finished up, I felt good that there was at least one other person in this world, even just for the moment (the time it took to eat a salad) that appreciates and even reads literature, and has something slightly more profound to talk about than flat billed hats with Monster energy drink logos on them and MMA fighters. This is Why Folsom Sucks, people from outside are ruining Folsom Faster than an ex-pat in a developing country, and they all like stupid shit.

~get weird~

I don't want to be first

2010-07-18T19:12:00.000-07:00

As a tribute to the Folsom community and reader input, I have adopted the Folsom motto for my sub-title. "I don't want to be first, I just want to be in front of you". This came from my only loyal reader and as a comment to my post. So thank you to the guy who enlightened me further on the collective paradigm of Folsom. I am plagiarizing you to further embarrass the average Folsomite, and because I am impressed I had no idea that this was Folsom's motto.

Why Folsom Sucks el numero dos

2010-07-17T11:58:00.000-07:00

Why Folsom Sucks el numero dos

On my way to work today, in a scorching 104 degree weather, I discovered why Folsom sucks, again. It’s hotter than Egypt here and traffic is about as fast as a dial-up modem in the late 90’s.

A stop in the road occurred on E. Bidwell, after waiting on the shitty road work on Sutter St., which is apparently going to take another few months to complete. Apparently two blocks worth of retrofitting a tube for shit and piss to flow through takes these people months of labor. I don’t know I don’t install tubes for human waste to flow through. Either way, Sutter St is about two blocks that only sees action on the weekends. In the daytime, it's old farts buying turquoise amulets, and leather bracelets. Sutter St. is the gayest and only thing Folsom has going for it.

Back to E. Bidwell, cars are swerving into the left hand turn lane, other cars are flowing right, like water around a rock, all avoiding this blockage in the road. It turns out two young females in beamers were having issues, or one of them was anyway. I stopped behind the two, hit the flashers and waited, knowing that this was going to be a great opportunity for material.

I watched all the cars flying around these two, in absolute impatience. I thought jesus what undisciplined pricks. No one is helping these two females. All these bastards had a few things in common, no one stopped, and no one offered help to these money humpers.

Common decency, and manners have no place in Folsom, I rarely hear someone say “excuse me” when they punch right past my face with a fat malnutritioned ham-hawk fed barrel of an arm. I usually envision Ogre in the Gauntlet Nintendo games moaning ‘Need food baaadly…”

They looked like the type of women I’d typically dismiss or be unnecessarily mean to, just because there were beautiful. I refuse to inflate the egos of women like this, the women who expect a guy to inflate their egos. Just to go complain-bragging to their friends that yet another douche bag wanted to get into their malodorous balloon knot and dig around like a mole. You’re on your own for validation babes.

These are women I would have nothing to do with ever in my life, they, nothing with me, in fact I hated them when I saw them. The only redeeming quality I can imagine they have would be not selling out their coke dealer if they didn’t offer to blow the cop first.

One young gal got out of her car and was talking to the other, I just assumed they were having car problems. Or their phone battery died and they just held up traffic on E. Bidwell to chat. But still there was not a single Mexican polished car stopping and offering them help. All the cars passing by all made it a point to be Folsom about things and swerve around them at unsafe speeds and back again in a furtive movement just to display their disapproval of the inconvenience.

This was incredible, Folsomites at their best, they were disrespecting their own kind (not that being considerate here is par for the course). Folsom is the antithesis of a community, but everyone acts more like a bunch of ravenous hammer-head sharks swirling in circles waiting for chum, hunting and scavenging for their next meal, and fuck the rest.

There I was, behind the two beamers and watching everyone act like they were working for the Pentagon, on their way to a hot lead, providing me with more reasons to hate them. I took the initiative to reluctantly help the females by warning the drivers behind me there was something happening and they should slow down.

This is what pisses me off, and this is Why Folsom Sucks, I didn’t want to help these two selfish and clueless dipshits out, I did so because no one else was. I was forced into benevolence out of pure spite for typical Folsom behavior. I don’t want to have to be nice as a counter to despicable behavior. I thought my sense of duty faded in March of this year. Let’s see if the favor is ever returned.

Why Folsom Sucks #1

2010-07-09T00:10:00.001-07:00

Why Folsom Sucks #1

Why Folsom sucks, is not an axiom, it’s a careful observation and participation in a community known for its small town vibe, and small town ideas, compounded with conspicuous consumption, and egregious whiteness. Folsom, and I dare even include the grid which is Sacramento, act like, what they think people in Los Angeles act like, and add to it unimaginable levels of parsimonious behavior. This is a series which I am confident will have no end, much like the expansion of the universe. Which is nice because the continuing series of Why Folsom Sucks can go on Ad Infinitum hopefully long after I die.

I decided to start this series just recently as I was trying to merge onto Rainbow Bridge and clearly someone thought they were more important, or the King of the Road enough to refuse to weave, or to let cars merge in a polite and expected manner. She gunned it, pole position over the bridge was paramount. She was right next to my car and two lanes were quickly becoming one. What should any self respecting and equal driver of the road do? Well.

Now, I may have gassed my car and pretended not see this whore, I didn’t look her way, I refused to give her the pleasure of being recognized. She honked and started flailing like an overcompensating born again Christian speaking in tongues. I can only hope she has a case of the mange on her corrosive pussy. I simply refused to let her cut in line. I stood my ground and this was unconscionable to her, go fig.

Such unfashioned behavior from a woman who drives a nice car. A car nice enough that the Folsom Police Department wouldn’t pay attention to. Average enough to remain invisible with all the other Beamers (more on police harassment later and junky cars). I can only hope she feels distress and belittled by her colleagues when she has to drive such an average piece of shit to work. An average piece of shit her husband refuses to wash.

This is just one of the many awful human beings at work here in Folsom trying to screw everyone else for a one second advantage over a shitty bridge that was built in the oughts. This was a matter of self respect, humbling arrogance, and a lesson in taking turns. To the 50 year old horse banging slut, this isn’t Fallujah, this is a lesson on taking turns. And this is Why Folsom Sucks, because baby boomers don’t seem to know how to share yet.

-J-